


Knowing Your Place

by Chichirinoda



Series: Chain Arc [1]
Category: Soul Eater
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-24
Updated: 2009-02-24
Packaged: 2017-10-14 07:57:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/147082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chichirinoda/pseuds/Chichirinoda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Giriko wants something from Mifune, and as far as he's concerned, he's going to get it whether Mifune likes it or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knowing Your Place

"Hey. You."

Mifune knew that he shouldn't allow his anger to show when he was addressed that way, especially since he was certain that Giriko was just doing it to nettle him, as some kind of pathetic attempt to maintain the hierarchy. Mifune was more than acquainted with his type from his time with the mafia, and it hadn't impressed him then, either.

The problem was, whether he liked it or not, Mifune was in an uncertain position here, and he knew it. As a human - not to mention a new member - he was low on the totem pole, but he was also the only normal human who was permitted to go unmasked.

There was really only one thing Mosquito had made clear when he was hired: if he wanted Angela to stay safe, he would toe the line with Arachne's favourites.

So Mifune stopped walking when he was hailed and turned towards Giriko, his eyes narrowed and his face an impenetrable mask.

"What do you want?"

He'd toe the line, but that didn't mean he had to be polite with trash.

Giriko was leaning against a pillar, half in shadow, his arms folded. "Where's your little sprog, huh?" he asked aggressively. "Hard to find you without that little brat hanging off your knee."

Mifune felt a flash of rage he knew had been inspired intentionally by the weapon. "She's _safely_ in her room. Why, were you looking for me?" Mifune growled.

"You could say that, maybe," Giriko replied. "But I guess it depends."

"On what?"

Giriko straightened up and walked towards Mifune. The two men were of a height, Mifune perhaps an inch taller, but Giriko leaned forward towards him, studying him from only inches away, bending as if to inspect and intimidate a shorter man. Mifune tensed, but resisted the urge to lean away. His jaw clenched and teeth ground on the needle in his mouth, and he considered spitting it into Giriko's eye.

"Depends on why you keep 'er around," Giriko said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You teachin' her a few things on the side, samurai? Showin' her the true Japanese way?"

Before he could stop himself, Mifune physically recoiled and his hand dropped to the hilt of the katana at his hip. "How dare you?" he hissed, pushing with his thumb to free the katana from its saya.

Momentarily, he forgot his need to stay on Arachne's good side, forgot where he was, forgot everything. For this insult, he would kill.

But he had let Giriko get a little too close. The weapon grabbed his hand, rough fingers closing around Mifune's and halting the draw of his sword.

"Hey, hey, it was a joke," Giriko said, his smirking face even closer now. Mifune could smell whiskey on his breath, but doubted he was as drunk as Giriko might want him to believe. "Don't be pissed. You say you ain't diddling her, I believe you. We're friends, right?"

"I would never," Mifune snarled. " _Never_ touch a child that way. Now get out of my face." Though Giriko's act of grabbing his hand and stopping him from drawing his sword had returned Mifune to sanity, he was still so angry that he was literally shaking.

"Sure, sure, I get the message," Giriko said in a pacifying tone, though he still hadn't let go.

Mifune considered his options - whether a headbutt or knee to the groin would be the most effective option.

But before he could decide, Giriko finally released his hand and stepped back. "Come on, then," he said, jerking his head and starting to turn away, clearly expecting Mifune to follow him.

Mifune remained where he was for a few seconds, then finally slid the katana fully back into his saya and released it. His fingers opened with reluctance.

He took a step forward, then stopped. "Where are we going?" He still had no idea what Girkio wanted from him, though it seemed clear he had something specific in mind. After what had just happened, Mifune wasn't sure if he wanted to just blindly follow along simply because Giriko was one of Arachne's favourites. It might not be worth it - better to be punished for not toeing the line in a small way, then wind up killing Giriko in some stupid pissing contest. His imagination could supply a dozen dire consequences to Angela if he did something like that.

Giriko's smile didn't give him much reassurance. "Don't be a stiff," he said. "I ain't gonna bite you. You scared or something?"

Well, that seemed to rule out official business, but Mifune still wasn't sure.

"Arachne...sama wanted you to fetch me?" he asked suspiciously. Giriko could be deliberately trying to get him to refuse an order, so that Mifune would be punished. But surely he wouldn't have the balls to lie directly about it.

Giriko's shark-toothed smirk widened. "You could say that, yeah."

Mifune hesitated, then moved to follow Giriko. If there was a chance this was official business, he couldn't risk angering Arachne and Mosquito by refusing. Not when things were so dangerous and he and Angela wouldn't have anywhere to go. And it wasn't as though he was afraid of Giriko.

Giriko's smirk widened even further. "Yeah, good. I thought so," he said cryptically, then led the way on down the corridor.

There were several twists and turns through the labyrinthine corridors, but it didn't take long before they got to their destination, and Mifune was still pretty sure he knew how to get back to his own suite. Giriko paused in front of a door and produced a key, the bow shaped like a spider's web, and inserted it into the lock. Mifune had a key just like it in his pocket, and he wasn't surprised when Giriko opened the door to reveal a sitting room.

The room was suffused with the unmistakeable aura of Giriko; untidy, with empty liquor bottles, gears, tools and other debris scattered over the floor and nearly every available surface. A bedroom was visible through a nearby door, and Mifune supposed it resembled the suite he shared with Angela, but lacking the second bedroom.

Giriko smiled toothily and led the way into his suite, gesturing for Mifune to follow. Mifune nearly balked at the door, but the thought that he might once again be accused of cowardice propelled him over the threshold and far enough into the cluttered room that the metal door closed with a clang behind him.

Giriko turned towards him, spreading his arms wide. "Welcome to my humble abode," he said. "Sit down." He jerked his thumb towards a sagging couch in the middle of the room, which was largely free of debris. There was a definite flavour of an order about the words, and Mifune moved forward reluctantly.

"You still haven't told me what you want," Mifune growled. He suffered a qualm as he realized he wouldn't be able to sit on the couch with his sword on his belt.

"What I fuckin' _want_ is for you to take a fuckin' seat," Giriko said testily, seeing him hesitate.

Shooting him a glare, Mifune freed his sword from the belt and sat down. It took him a moment to decide what to do with it, but in the end he leaned it against the arm of the sofa. He didn't want it out of reach with this psycho so close.

From the way Giriko scowled, it looked like he'd been hoping Mifune wouldn't find a good solution to this problem.

"Guess you prefer to be on your knees," he said, swaggering towards him and kicking a half-finished golem hand aside before sitting down on the sofa next to Mifune.

Mifune bristled. "I generally prefer Japanese furnishings over Western style, yes," he said coldly.

"That ain't what I meant," Giriko said, showing his teeth and leaning towards Mifune again. "Look at you, pretending you're so tough, but you followed me without a peep."

Mifune felt a flush come to his cheeks that had nothing to do with shame and everything to do with blinding rage. "If you question my battle prowess, then feel free to challenge me, if you have the balls," he snarled.

"Nah, I ain't interested in that," Giriko said, smirking. "I don't gotta prove a thing to you. After all, we both know the score, don't we? I know you don't dare really piss me off, because when it comes right down to it, you're just a human, and I'm a demon weapon. You're just a hired gun, with something to lose, and I'm Arachne-sama's most loyal subject."

Mifune clenched his fists with the effort not to break Giriko's nose with one of them. "A human whom you couldn't defeat if you trained for another hundred years," he replied coldly.

Giriko laughed. "Yeah. Right. We might see about that one of these days, but in the meantime, you're a human who's helpless without your sharp little toys."

Without warning, Giriko's hand thrust out towards him. Mifune's own hand leapt upwards reflexively to block a blow, but Giriko wasn't aiming for his face. The weapon's fist hit the katana and it fell to the floor with a clatter.

Mifune lunged to rescue it, and felt Giriko's other hand close around the back of his neck. Instantly, Mifune froze, cursing inwardly as he felt the cold of metal against his skin, right against his spine.

"Ain't this interesting," Giriko said conversationally. "All I gotta do is start my engine and I bet I could cut through your spinal cord before you could move."

Mifune had his back to Giriko because of his move towards the sword. He was half off the couch, his hand outstretched towards the sword, but short by quite a few inches. The position was exquisitely uncomfortable, his legs struggling to support his weight at this angle. But Giriko was right, and so Mifune didn't dare move a muscle.

"Say," Giriko went on after a pause in which the difficulties of his position had had more than enough time to sink in. His tone was still conversational. "I heard that samurai perform special favours for their teachers while they're learning. That true? You ever suck cock for your sensei, Mifune?"

Mifune closed his eyes and clenched his teeth with the effort to merely say nothing, to not rise to the bait.

"Ah well, I guess it don't matter if you tell me or not. I always thought you looked like a cocksucker. It's that needle you're always sucking on, like you can't wait to wrap your lips around something long and hard," Giriko went on, cruelly.

Mifune couldn't stand it any longer. "Let me go," he growled, forcing the words out past a throat as dry as if he'd swallowed a bag of sand.

"Nah, don't think I will," Giriko said. "See, I figure you're a bit too proud. You need to learn your fuckin' place - and it ain't equal to me."

"I know my place here," Mifune said stiffly. "I am Arachne-sama's bodyguard, not a whore."

"Far as I can see, there's no reason you can't be both." Giriko exerted pressure on the back of his neck and Mifune turned his head to look at him. Reluctantly, he lowered his outstretched hand. The sword might as well be miles away for all he could get to it right now. Mifune felt a bead of sweat run down his face as he saw the self-satisfied, triumphant expression on Giriko's face. The piece of shit clearly thought he'd won, and Mifune couldn't honestly say he was wrong, given the situation.

Mifune stared at him for a moment, reminding himself over and over that it would be a simple effort of will for Giriko to carry out his threat. He would be dead in an instant and unable to carry out his vengeance for this.

"So I say," Giriko said with obvious relish. "You're going to get down on your knees - your favourite position - and show me what your sensei taught you."

As he spoke, he plucked the needle from between Mifune's clenched teeth and tossed it away. Then Giriko opened his pants one-handed. The sound of his zipper purring down sent a rush of cold flowing down Mifune's spine.

This was really happening to him.

"Go on," Giriko prompted him, pressing just a bit on the back of Mifune's neck. Mifune had the choice either to bow or get down on the floor - neither were good options, but he chose reluctantly to slip to his knees.

The only tactical option at this point was to pretend to be cowed and await his moment.

Mifune shifted to face Giriko, his legs folding themselves into seiza automatically. Giriko's erect member jutted from his pants like a fish emerging from weeds, flushed red and thick. Mifune had half-expected it to be pierced, or to bear a neat line of chain running its length, but there was no metal in sight.

He reached for it, then paused as Giriko growled warningly. "Any funny business and I'll start my engines - paralyze you from the neck down. It ain't like you need your arms and legs to get your mouth fucked."

Mifune suffered another chill, then nodded fractionally. "I understand."

His heart thumped and he swallowed with revulsion as he grasped Giriko's cock and bent his head over his lap. He drew in a breath, then closed his eyes and opened his mouth, plunging his head downwards.

Contrary to Giriko's expectations, Mifune had never done this before, though he had had a couple of willing ladies offer to do him the favour in the past, so he had a good idea of what to do. The actual experience was far different than he expected. Giriko's cock tasted vaguely salty and smelled musky, but not wholly unpleasant. Mifune bobbed his head up and down a few times, experimentally.

Giriko's mouth was more unpleasant, unfortunately, since he didn't seem capable of shutting up. He let out a rough, gasping laugh, his fingers tightening at the back of Mifune's neck. "Pretty eager, aren't ya? I knew you were just waiting to blow me."

 _Let him think what he wants,_ Mifune thought savagely, though he felt his cheeks flushing with more shame than anger, now. Hadn't he just been thinking it wasn't that bad?

A soft growl sounded in the back of his throat, but that apparently felt good, since Giriko immediately let out an appreciative groan.

 _Best to just get this over with,_ Mifune thought irritably. He removed his hand from the base of Giriko's cock and began to bob his head up and down faster, taking more of Giriko's cock into his mouth until he feared he might choke if he dropped his head down any further.

Giriko was still running his mouth.

"Oh yeah, oh yeah, Mifune, use that pretty fucking mouth on me. Oh yeah, you like it, doncha? I bet you been jerking off in your bed at night, wishing Giriko would just grab ya and show ya what it's like to be fucked by a _real_ man. Well don't worry, I'll give ya the fuck of your life." Giriko kept up a steady stream of this and similar filth, which Mifune did his best to ignore.

It grew harder and harder to tune out, however, as Giriko grew steadily louder and more crude. Mifune's jaw started to ache with the effort to hold it open, and keep his teeth from accidentally scraping against the sensitive flesh in his mouth.

Salty fluid suddenly flooded his mouth as Giriko gave a wordless cry. For a moment, Mifune wondered if that was it, if the ordeal was over, and then Giriko's hand suddenly shifted. Mifune found himself seized by the hair as Giriko began to thrust upwards into his mouth, giving voice to more cries, epithets and barely coherent words of encouragement.

"Yes! Yes! Mifune, fuck, good!"

With the deadly blades off of his spine and Giriko so distracted, this might have been Mifune's best opportunity to get away. But Giriko's fist was clenched tightly in the hairs at the base of Mifune's skull, holding him steady with shocking strength as he fucked his mouth. More importantly, all thoughts were driven out of Mifune's head in favour of a visceral, purely animal struggle not to choke or gag at the hard shaft being driven repeatedly against the back of his throat.

Finally, hot jets of fluid flooded Mifune's mouth, making him choke and sputter. Giriko let out a final scream of pleasure, then pushed Mifune hard away from him. Mifune fell to the floor, gagging and struggling to draw breath, sticky fluid dripping down his chin.

He could barely breathe or think, but he was free. Mindlessly, he groped, grabbed something hard and cold up from the floor, and stabbed it forward almost blindly towards the gasping, moaning Giriko.

The screwdriver sank into the couch half an inch from Giriko's crotch. He heard Giriko give a gasp of surprise and terror and knew he'd gotten his attention.

Recovering now, but half-blind with fury, Mifune yanked the screwdriver out of the cushion, which bled stuffing in a puff, and stabbed downwards a second time.

Giriko screamed as the screwdriver punched through his jeans and penetrated his thigh, then began to swear vociferously.

"I'll fuckin' kill you! Fucking, _fuck_ , you fuckin' stabbed me!"

"Shut up!" Mifune snapped. His voice was raw and a little breathless, but it was loud. "I've stabbed you right next to your femoral artery. If I pull sideways, I'll sever it and you'll bleed out in minutes. You'll be unconscious before you can retaliate."

His eyes bugging out and his face purple with fury, Giriko closed his foul mouth and stared at him.

Mifune reached up with his free hand and wiped the slime off of his chin. Deliberately, he wiped his hand on Giriko's shirt, and the weapon made a choked, impotent sound of protest.

The samurai had now caught his breath and he looked up at Giriko, feeling strength flow into him once again. When he spoke, his voice was firm and had only a trace of evidence remaining of the abuse his throat had suffered.

"This will never happen again," Mifune said. "If I even hear a rumour that you've done something like this to _anyone_ , I will personally cut your dick off and stuff it down your filthy throat. Got it?"

For a second, Giriko looked defiant, so Mifune tugged lightly on the screwdriver, an act he knew would cause excruciating pain.

"All right! All right! Fuck!" Giriko shrieked. A red stain was spreading out rapidly from the point where the screwdriver had penetrated his leg.

"You understand your position, now?" Mifune asked, relishing the words. He tended, as a rule, to be a literal person, so it was rare for him to have an opportunity to say something like this. "Your _place_?"

The sound of Giriko's sharp teeth grinding together was audible. "Yeah, I understand," he bit out.

"Good," Mifune said. Without another word, he grabbed his sword and got to his feet, then strode out of the suite before Giriko could figure out how to extract the screwdriver without bleeding to death.

Mifune was looking forward to seeing him hobbling around tomorrow. He could only hope that Giriko was smart enough to allow it to end there.


End file.
